


capsize

by killaidanturner



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Aunt Peggy Carter, Civil War (Marvel), Death, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Memories, Peggy's Funeral, even tho this is the tragic au no one asked for, everyone gets a happy ending cause thats how i fucking work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 04:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killaidanturner/pseuds/killaidanturner
Summary: For the first time Steve sees Peggy in Tony, he always thought it was Howard, the showman, but all along it’s been Peggy and the way that she had her shoulders pulled just a little bit back to make her appear taller.





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [somanyofthekids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/gifts).



> for michelle, who basically has been a huge supporter of everything i write and i will always be grateful for it, this ones for you

Tony finds out before Steve does. He doesn’t even walk into the meeting, he doesn’t go in with his shoulders squared and a determination to get the avengers to sign the accords. Instead he feels tremors under his feet at the news. 

 

“She was gone in her sleep.” 

 

* * *

Sitting in the pews is all too much of a reminder of the last funeral he went to. He doesn’t count the years between them because no matter how much time passes it will never be enough. He breathes in slowly, afraid that too deep of a breath might cause his chest to ache even more, might cause him to fracture. He thinks he’s similar to a glass house, always in danger of shattering. 

 

Peggy’s husband had already passed a few years prior, so they ask Steve to be the one to speak first. Of course he says yes, of course his eyes look distant as he walks to the podium, and Tony's heart aches at the sight of him. He shuffles in his seat, pulling a bible out of the pocket on the back of the pew in front of him, his fingers running across the pages before he puts it back. 

 

Here in this church, it comes to a head for Tony, all of the things he tried to separate, the years of Steve Rogers looming over him have finally caught up to him and Tony is surprised it’s taken this long. 

 

Steve talks about the first time he met Peggy, how small he was in comparison to her. He talks about a cab ride and how he told her he used to fight in back alleys. 

 

“Peggy Carter told me that she thought I was more, and I’ve held onto that. Peggy did that for a lot of people, pushed them to be better. I see all of you know, here in this room,” Steve pauses, his eyes landing on Tony before he continues on, “and I know she changed your lives the way she changed mine.”

 

It’s not a time to be petty, or bitter, but Tony can’t help feel a little resentment being the one to have to go on right after Steve. 

 

* * *

Tony keeps his speech broad and relatable, he throws in a few ancedotes and some more known memories that Peggy herself had told, but the other ones, he wants to keep for just him. 

 

“Dad hated it when Aunt Peggy came over to the house, because he knew he was going to get talked out of something stupid he was about to do.” The room laughs. “I think my favorite story she ever told me was that once Dad, before he had met Mom of course, tried to kiss her and Aunt Pegs knocked him into the Thames. Dad hated that story, I think I liked how happy she looked when she told it. That’s how I remember her, strong, but everyone knew that, she was kinder than I think a lot of us deserved, and I will never be able to express how much it means that I got to call her family.”

 

He doesn’t say the things close to his heart because he’s saving those for a different conversation. 

 

* * *

After the service he goes back to the church, he expects to find it empty after the burial, but he sees the familiar shape of Steve sitting in one of the pews. 

 

_ Probably ran here _ , Tony thinks to himself as he makes his way to the front to sit in the same aisle as Steve.

 

The silence stretches between them, longer and longer with each beat. It’s Steve who speaks first. 

 

“I know you hate me-”

 

“I don’t hate you. Even if you don’t sign the accords, I could never hate you,” Tony takes the funeral program and rolls it up, tapping it against his knee. It hurts to look at it, to see a younger picture of Aunt Peggy staring back at him. “You know how much she loved you right? Dad used to tell me stories about you, a little exaggerated at times, but then Aunt Peggy would pull me aside and whisper in my ear how at the end of the day you were a good man. You know the first time I saw you dive out of a plane it reminded of me of the story they used to tell me about you, how you went to save Barnes. I guess that this whole thing should make sense then, you still chasing after him.” Tony stands up this time, his knuckles white as he grips the paper even tighter. He runs a hand through his hair as he exhales, hyper aware of Steve watching him. “This isn’t about that though, about Barnes. I’m helping you find him though because it’s the right thing to do, because it’s what Aunt Pegs wants. After Mom and Dad died, she was all I had, her and Jarvis, they were family, and fuck sometimes I put them through hell but they were always there.” He can feel his chest getting tighter, his throat wanting to close as the memories coming pouring back into him. 

 

It was the way she wrapped her arms around him at the hospital, pulling him close as his tears soaked her shirt. How his voice choked out, “I should have told them I loved them before they left, I should have said it. He didn’t know.” 

 

“Shhhh, Howard knew, he knew.” Her hands running down his back as she held him even tighter, how she didn’t move the whole night and stayed firmly in place, supporting the both of them. 

 

“Dad talked about you like even sunlight couldn’t touch you, but Aunt Peggy, she talked about your flaws, the things that you did to irritate her. She told me about pulling a gun and shooting a round into the shield Dad made for you and after all the stories I heard about you, that was my favorite because knowing you made Aunt Peggy mad enough to shoot you made you a little more real in my mind.” Tony doesn’t add on Howard’s remarks of, “why can’t you be more like Steve?” This version of Steve, Peggy’s version of him, was more tangible. He wanted to say _ , I always thought I could make people mad enough to shoot me too, mad enough to love me despite that.  _

 

"Dad may have taught me physics and engineering but Aunt Peggy taught me how to throw a right hook. Thumb in. She taught me because,” this is too much, all of the things he’s choked down spilling out from behind his teeth like a burst pipe, “because she was afraid that one day dad was gonna swing first. She never said as much but I could tell. She knew he had a temper, amplified by his drinking, she knew that sometimes things hit the wall and, only Aunt Pegs could fight dad the way she did. I had never seen anyone stand up to him but I had seen her do it, more than once. I never had to use that right hook, not as a kid anyways, but a few times in school. I don’t think dad was ever happy about it but once after I had been suspended she asked if I knocked the guy out and when I said yes she smiled. That was the thing about her, she was always about standing your ground, and I know, I know that’s what we’re both doing here, standing our ground.” 

 

For the first time Steve sees Peggy in Tony, he always thought it was Howard, the showman, but all along it’s been Peggy and the way that she had her shoulders pulled just a little bit back to make her appear taller.

 

Steve lets out an exhale, loud amongst the now empty church. “I wish she was still here so I could ask her what I should do.” 

 

“Well obviously she would tell you to agree with me.” 

 

Steve looks at Tony with a raised brow, a smirk playing on Tony’s face before he lets it fall. “She wouldn’t. Instead she would give you some metaphor that would pull at your heartstrings and you would find the answer yourself. And no, that’s not what I was doing here. I’m too long winded for that.”

 

Steve laughs, loud and echoing. “I appreciate what you did. Telling me about her. I didn’t know that-”

 

“She was a big part of my life? When you came back, I didn’t want what I thought was these two worlds to bleed.”

 

Tony doesn’t tell Steve about the nights that Peggy talked about Steve like he was something that slipped through the cracks, something that time had grabbed hold of and never let go. 

 

When Tony was younger, all of his time with Aunt Peggy felt a little bit stolen, teetering on becoming a secret. He supposes it’s because he was always happy with her and at times he felt that he wasn’t supposed to feel that, that playing with train cars and rocket ships was not meant for prodigal sons but Peggy Carter never cared about those things and would be mission control with the count down as Tony would send a rocket off in the deep reaches of his room. 

 

Sometimes it was hard to tie that Peggy to the one that made a dying Steve Rogers promise her a dance that neither of them would ever attend. Sometimes he doesn’t want to because he remembers a few months ago when Steve was leaving Peggy’s room and Tony just happened to be walking in, he doesn’t want to because he remembers sitting down and Peggy grabbing his hand, her skin softer now with age, now that she wasn’t using them as much. How she waited for Steve to leave then looked into Tony’s eyes, filled with brightness and something akin to hope. 

 

“What?” Tony had asked her, clearing his throat as if something had been caught in it, more so that he had been caught. 

 

“I’ve seen the way that people have looked at Steve, filled with wonder, but then I’ve seen another way that people look at Steve.”

 

Tony didn’t respond, his heart trying to still in his chest at her soft spoken words. 

 

“I know this because I caught my reflection once when I had seen him walk away and it happens to look just like yours.” 

 

Tony looked up at her then and he can’t imagine what his eyes must have looked like, other than they must have been filled with fear because Aunt Peggy let out a laugh that Tony hadn’t heard in years and gripped his hand like it didn’t hurt hers to do so. 

 

“It’s alright you know, I won’t tell him.”

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Aunt Peggy.”

 

“You know I don’t make promises, I make threats.” She winked at him and it was nice to see her with a spark in her eyes and a push behind her words, nice to see her smiling and happy. Mostly she looked happy and Tony couldn’t have asked for more. 

 

He let silence fall between them before he spoke again. “I can’t tell him. Not now at least. Not after he’s seen Barnes. He spends his nights awake, looking at maps, and camera footage from street corners and God, Aunt Peggy, what I wouldn’t give to be able to just make Barnes appear before him. I’ve given him access to everything I have and I still feel like it isn’t enough. In the mornings, he’s exhausted, I can tell because he doesn’t speak as much in the mornings. That’s when he goes for a run, and he runs and runs and runs, until he has a new idea in his head and he comes bursting back into the Tower like this will be the idea to save Barnes and I’m always right there, ready to help. So I can’t, I can’t tell him anything about how I feel. Not when 1943 is looming above us and there’s a draft that he can’t get accepted into.” 

 

When Tony snaps back to the cold church, to the empty altar where the casket has already been moved, he still sees trenches and land mines between them. 

 

* * *

It’s a lawyer who hands Steve a letter, distributing Peggy’s possessions, her last will and testament. The letter feels heavy in his hands, like it isn’t made from parchment but instead stone. He supposes because last will and testament is too permanent, and that Peggy’s would be just that, permanent and powerful. More so he’s afraid that it will be the answer that he needs and he can’t seem to grasp why that is something to be afraid of. 

 

_ Steve, my dear Steve,  _

 

_ This won't be a love letter because we both know that time has passed. For me at least, for this story of ours, but the thing is Steve, I wouldn’t change it because I have loved deeply, even after you. Not always romantic, but I have loved to the point of unconditional and because of that I wouldn’t change what happened.  _

 

_ I see the way you look sometimes when you come to see me, melancholy. The sadness that is in you is because you’re still holding onto what could have been and you’re missing what is right in front of you.  _

 

_ I do need you to make me one last promise. I know you don’t always get on with Anthony, but he needs you. He needs you more than he lets on and I think you need him too. Watching you two is like watching two magnets, getting pushed together then pulled apart. I can’t tell you what to do, but I think there’s more there than what you’re seeing because you’re still so haunted. Maybe that’s what makes you two work, you’re both filled with ghosts.  _

 

_ Look after him, look after each other. My boys. _

 

_ Love always, _

_ Peggy _

 

It turns into the thing he didn’t want to hear, the thing that he knew was looming and just waiting for someone to be brave enough to say. Maybe not brave, maybe that wasn’t the right word, but to put it in a way that would actually get through to Steve.

 

He can’t separate Tony from the Accords from their work relationship, friendship? He can’t separate the three, not when he thinks about how when Tony isn’t around things feel a little less saturated. He immediately feels guilty for calling it a work relationship. He supposes he did it to feel less guilty about Tony basically giving him access to everything in the Tower to help find Bucky. He also supposes he did it because if he says it then it makes the Accords less personal and that’s what all of this is, personal. All the way down to how Tony peels an orange, his nails digging into the top to cut a perfect circle before peeling the skin back, the same way that Peggy used to when they would be sitting under canvas tents while mapping out routes and strategies. Because if he can pull those two things apart, put them in different categories, then it’s easier to say that he won’t sign the Accords. 

 

He tries to imagine a life where he has it all, where he has Bucky back and his memories are healing, his memories are kind, and they can both talk about the past with a laugh and not with poltergeist words. A life where Tony is there, and he’s smiling, and happy and when he looks at the sky he imagines the way that Peggy held his rocket ship instead of how he held a rocket. But he doesn’t know how to get both, not when there’s a secret stuck in his teeth. 

 

“Oh Peggy, you don’t know what I’ve done.” 

 

* * *

It’s not even ironic that Steve feels like he’s watching a car crash when Tony realizes what’s been kept from him. It’s tragic and Steve wishes he could redo all of this, that if he could turn back time he would turn it back to a year ago. That he would tell himself to stop being so relentless, that Bucky would come to him eventually, that he would find his way back like it was a boat pulling to shore. He would tell himself that things would be easier this way if he would be patient, that everyone would hurt less. He can’t do that, he can’t take back the things he learned and the things he hid. 

 

Saying,  _ I wanted to protect you _ , seems meaningless, hopeless, because in the end Steve knows he was also protecting himself. Tony is unmoving in front of him, all red and gold, and Steve’s thoughts flicker in his head like a failing heart, and he can’t help but to think how Tony’s favorite colors are his favorite too. 

 

He sees it then, Peggy’s clenched jaw, squared and perfect on Tony’s features. It’s enough to distract Steve from the black eye, from the thumb hidden in Tony’s knuckles. 

 

* * *

And of all the things that could ruin Steve Rogers he thought that this was it. His past and his future going toe to toe. He remembers Tony;'s words in the church, worlds bleeding.

 

It’s enough to make him break. It’s D.C. all over again, it’s the bridge, it’s him whispering, “please don’t make me do this,” as he faces off against his best friend. He doesn’t know where the end of the line is anymore but he knows that this is it, that he can’t carry on any further, that the weight that is pressing down into him is too many memories, and they weigh more than an army pack ever did, even before the serum.

 

He feels the cold of the ground on his knees first. His hands reaching for his cowl, pulling it off and letting it slide to the ground. He doesn’t feel himself speaking, doesn’t know his vocal cords are raw against his throat as he cries out, “please, please, please.” 

 

He just wants it to stop, all the noise, the sound of metal against metal, bone crunching bone, the metallic smell of blood seeping into the air. Never had he wished to be in the ice again, never before had he wanted to feel the cold freeze up his lungs once more but in this moment he thought that it would feel less painful than this. 

 

It takes a few more blows, it takes a repulsor to Bucky’s chest to push him off, for them both to be able to hear the ragged breathing coming from Steve. It takes the shell of a man to get them both to realize what they’re doing, for Tony to stop seeing red. 

 

Tony bites back a remark, one that’s still boiling inside of him, something along the lines of, you’re getting what you want Rogers, but there’s already too much blood in his mouth. 

 

Bucky doesn’t immediately go to him, instead he catches his breathing, his eyes shifting between Tony and Steve, silent as they both watch Steve continue to unravel, threads and decades being undone. 

 

They both don’t know who should make a move, it’s tactical, both of them unsure of what the others motives are. 

 

Tony doesn’t say anything, instead he pulls off his gloves, tossing them to the ground next to Steve’s scratched shield, now imperfect. He kneels down next to Steve, his hands distant and hovering. He knows this too well, knows what to do from the nights that he had woken Pepper from the screams in his own nightmares and how her voice stayed low, more melodic, as she talked him back. 

 

“I came here to talk to you,” Tony tries to lower his voice, to mimic a rise and fall, something more soothing. “We can still talk. Not now, obviously not now, but I can get us out of here, all of us. It might kill me Steve, it might actually kill me, but I’ll do it if it means we’ll actually talk to each other. I won’t say I’m sorry for what happened here today because at the moment I’m not too sure how sorry anyone is either but I think, I think we can all get to that place.” 

 

Before him is the man that has returned from too many wars, each shudder is an explosion as his body tries to regain regular breathing, and Tony knows that he wants him to return from this one as well. 

 

There’s a small sound of metal clanking on metal. Tony looks up to see Bucky, his eyes a little distant as his thumb counts his fingers to and from on his metal arm, his lips slightly moving as he mutters numbers as he gos.

 

Tony realizes that it’s Bucky that has never returned from that war, but instead has been in one for seventy years. It isn’t about the Accords, the fucking Accords that Tony couldn’t care less about at the moment, but instead Tony sees what Steve was looking for, he sees the man under the soldier, the man with softer eyes and plum ridden circles under them. 

 

He closes his eyes and says what all soldiers want to hear, “come on, we’re going home.” 

 

* * *

After seven weeks of tip toeing around one another and Natasha being on constant watch, appearing in rooms practically out of thin air just to assure that there aren’t any mishaps, Tony snaps. 

 

“This isn’t a war-zone. Everyone is safe here. I can’t be worried about who's in the kitchen when I go to get coffee. I’m not going to throw punches and luckily I don’t think anyone knows Barnes’ trigger words. The only fight he’s getting in is with Sam over who is more of Steve’s best friend.” Tony rinses his mug out in the sink as he calls over his shoulder for the whole living space to hear. 

 

“Hey! That’s not what that is!” Sam crosses his arms over his chest as he sinks down into the couch cushions further, muttering to himself as he does so. 

 

“Keep telling yourself that bird boy.” It’s easier with Sam, someone who he can banter with and not worry about a wrench being thrown into the gears. 

 

* * *

Tony finds the letter, open and on his work top. 

 

“FRIDAY, who left this?” 

 

“Captain Rogers, Sir.” 

 

It takes him a while to read it, he words around it like it's an artifact, aware of its presence but never really looking at it. 

 

It takes three hours for him to break. The handwriting too familiar to him, the elegant scrawl and the loops that glide like figure skating.

 

“... _ Look after him, look after each other. My boys.” _

 

He finds himself filled with grief. He tries to remember the seven stages and is convincing himself that anger is at least half of the stages as he grabs the note and storms out of the room.

It takes him longer to get to Steve’s room than he likes, too many stairs, an elevator ride, and a long corridor later he’s pushing his way into Steve’s room, note in his hand, knees locking as he tries to prevent them from shaking.

 

“Why on  _ earth  _ would you show this to me?” Earth is exaggerated, Tony doesn’t know why when he knows there's unknown universes out there but he thinks in all of them this shouldn't be happening. 

 

“I didn’t want to keep secrets from you anymore.” Steve says it like it's obvious, like it’s as easy as his next breath. 

 

It calms Tony down a bit. “Don’t you think it’s a bit, private?”

 

“When has that ever bothered you?” Steve is drawing in a sketchbook, his shoulders hunched as his hand scribbles along the page. 

 

It gets him to pause for a moment, to loosen up his posture and actually think about it. “Because it’s, it’s Aunt Pegs, and because well, honestly I’m surprised she didn’t put more in there. She could have probably wrote you a whole novel about the things I told her just about you and frankly I think I’m more embarrassed than anything. Ok, my defense humor aside, may I sit?” Tony asks as he points to the empty spot on the edge of the bed next to Steve. 

 

Steve looks up and nods yes, scooting over to allow Tony to have more room. Tony is mechanical when he sits, precise about where every limb is going, careful not to touch Steve. 

 

Steve notices this, and widens his legs a little more so his knee is touching Tony’s. He can feel his heat through his clothes, a light warmth but comforting. Tony is quiet before he continues on. “She was right. I need you too, even if that means you need Barnes more.”

 

The pencil stops, Steve closes the notebook and looks at Tony, his eyebrows pulled together, a look that says a speech or possibly a lecture is about to happen. Tony knows the look well and braces himself for it. 

 

“I think we need each other equally, but in different ways, and I don’t want us drawing comparisons anymore. I need him because he needs me, and well because he’s something that reminds me that my past is real because sometimes, even though it wasn’t that long ago to me, it doesn’t feel real at all. And I need you,”  _ Stand your ground Steve, _ “I need you made this place feel real, you made it feel like home when I needed it the most. You set me straight the way Peggy used to, except you pissed me off when you did it, so you made my life here, now, feel real. I’ll always be thankful for that Tony.” His hand lands on Tony’s knee, his fingers caressing as he looks into Tony’s eyes which are now wide. 

 

“I’m just trying to process.” Tony moves a hand up to his temple to imitate gears moving. He’s certain that Steve can feel his racing pulse even down in his knee, the fast beats that match his racing thoughts. 

 

“I know, but I thought this is the part in movies where people usually kiss.” 

 

“Aunt Peggy did always say you were dramatic.” Tony quirks his lips up as he says it, because even though he can’t believe this is happening, he still finds a way to tease Steve. 

 

Steve smiles as he leans in, his lips landing on Tony’s, and here in this room, with Tony pressed against him, he really does feel at home. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was only supposed to be like 1500 words so i don't know what happened, it was just supposed to be the funeral scene and i got carried away


End file.
